There is a condition worse than blindness, and that is, seeing something that isn't there~
Thomas Hardy
All Gracie wanted was her father to be proud of her.
The first time in a year that her dad had come home from Iraq was to attend her trial. She had been convicted of murder, a murder that the snake woman had committed. She wished that Hannah could've been there, to convince them that it wasn't her, but if that were the case she wouldn't have been on trial in the first place.
"Daddy, I didn't do it," she whispered to her father as they walked down the hall, toward the crowded courtroom. He hadn't spoken a word to her since he'd been home. Tears filled her eyes, the eyes that matched her father's.
There was one distinct difference between their eyes, though. Hers were filled with fear and pain, while his were blank and emotionless.
She knew that she was hurting him, that her mental illness was his burden. He was too proud and well trained, though, to admit it or show any signs of pain or weakness. Being that way was in his job description. Many an hour had been spent ridding himself of emotions, and he wasn't about to show any then. What made him a powerful leader in the army had made him a terrible father; had turned him into a monster.
"Why won't you believe me?" Gracie managed to choke out. Her sound was barely audible, but her father's trained ears heard her perfectly.
He turned toward his daughter, making sure to leave a fair amount of space between us, as if Gracie's madness was contagious. "I don't know what to believe anymore. Every time I come home, I hear of more and more of your antics. It's finally gone too far. I cannot sympathize and baby you any more. You killed a person." He said each word slowly and precisely, as if she couldn't comprehend them at a normal pace.
Gracie fell to her knees, unable to see through the thick fog of her own tears. Her father kept walking, as if he hadn't noticed, leaving Gracie's mother to help her towards the courtroom.
Her mother had been so fragile since Gracie's hallucinations had gotten really bad. She prayed every night for the answer to come, for Gracie to be well. She wished on every star that her daughter would find friends and be happy, but to no avail.
Her prayers would never be answered; her wishes never granted. It wouldn't get any easier.
With one simple word, the crumbled remains of Gracie's life toppled onto her.
Guilty.
Sent to an asylum because of her 'mental illness'.
Yet she couldn't bring herself to shed a tear. She was numb, something that she'd never been before. She was numb from the pain of watching her only friend die right in front of her. Numb from seeing her father not defend her in front of the court. Numb from seeing her mother weeping. Numb from telling the truth, only to be called mad.
She was sick and tired of telling the truth. But in the back of her mind she wondered if she was the liar.
The smell of antiseptics and cleaning chemicals.
The look of her bedroom walls, white and padded.
The sound of muttering, from the woman next door.
The taste of the dry and flavorless food, having to eat with her fingers.
The feeling of the cold, hard tile underneath her bare feet as she slipped out of her bed each morning.
For two years this was Gracie's past, present and future.
At a point, they didn't know what to do with her. She had become distant, barely even talking, let alone talking about monsters. She knew that it was best for everyone to pretend that she didn't see anything, no matter how much it pained her inside. No matter how much she wanted to scream. She couldn't show weakness, or she'd lose it completely. She'd be like one of them, just another crazy little girl.
There were certain people there, mostly children, who she guessed could see them too. The only difference was the fact that the monsters paid attention to them.
They'd writhe in pain and they'd scream out for help, but no one came. And with each person that she watched being ripped to ribbons, Gracie became more and more cold. She didn't call for the nurses, she just watched. After a while, it didn't affect her at all.
She stayed in her cold and desolate prison until a day in June, when her mother recieved a letter in the mail.
Death was the only thing constant in her life. Her best friend had died, and now her father had died in combat. It pained her to think it, but she didn't even care. Her father had been dead to her anyway.
She was alive, but she wasn't living. Breathing, but dead. Her heart was beating, but she felt nothing. She walked without a purpose to her movement.
But her mother missed her, and wanted Gracie back in her life. So she was taken to court yet again.
Through the trial, she wasn't listening for the most part, but a few words caught her attention, and swarmed in her head like bees in a hive.
Murder. Insane. Monsters. Stupid. Just a child. Knife. Best friend. Father. Dead.
And when she entered her mother's home again and laid in her warm bed, she couldn't even bring herself to smile.
A/N: Sorry, this chapter is really short. About a thousand words, I believe. And this was sort of just a filler chapter anyway; the real plot comes in the next chapter. There will probably only be one or two more chapters, though, if it works out how I want it to (and hopefully it won't take as long to write them).